


Whole again

by Fearless_leaderr



Series: Norse Athelstan [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Lowkey athelnar, norse!athelstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fearless_leaderr/pseuds/Fearless_leaderr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sword rests threateningly against his throat, the owner standing strong and imposing. "You know our langauage. How do you know our language?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole again

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely off where my last Drabble ended.

The wooden alter was digging into his back uncomfortably. Athelstan groaned quietly as he shifted, pushing the terrified monks quaking hands away from him. The man was being too loud, sobbing about a devine punishment and a rapture taking place. Athelstan hushed him quickly, pushing a bible into his hands and telling him to shut up. The monk- for now-seemed mollified, as his sobbing turned into quiet sniffles. Once satisfied the man wouldn't give away their position Athelstan turned away, quirking his head to the side as he listened to the dying sounds of the monks outside. He heard the clammer of the warning bells, the screaming of dying men and the clatter of metal hitting off walls and floor and bone. Distinctively, he realised he should probably be more afraid than he was. The raid continued for another solid section of time before the heavy wooden doors of the treasury burst open, and suddenly they are not alone. 

A familiar language fills the room and it makes Athelstan's heart leap, his hands beginning to shake in not fear, but overwhelming relief. 'I can go home' he thinks feverishly to himself, laughter bubbling from his chest and escaping from his mouth. The speech in the room freezes and before he can process it hands are pulling him off the floor. His back hits roughly against the alter and he doesn't care, laughing and laughing until his head feels light. The man holding him hesitates, his brow bunched in clear confusion. Someone behind him a voice quips "has he gone mad?" 'Perhaps, northman' Athelstan thinks, 'perhaps I have.' The Viking holding him, a man with a mane of blonde hair neatly plaited down his back, shakes him when his laughter calms down, holding a blade to his throat. 

His blue eyes go flinty, and Athelstan remembers that they don't actually know that he's one of them. "Wait" he says, his voice raspy from disuse. He raises both hands and ignores the blood that's beginning to bead on his neck. "Wait, I am one of you."

The stranger stares at him dangerously and the pressure of the sword against his neck intensifies. "You know our language. How do you know our language?" The taller man asks, his thick eyebrows quirked disbelievingly. 

Athelstan swallows carefully and shifts, leaning further into the alter. "I was taught it as a child, where quickly after I was taken. Stolen by the monks. I swear it, I was born as a Northman. My village was called..was called.." He trailes off, his eyes closing to try and relocate the memory. He remembered houses by the sea, a bustling market place, and barn where feats took place.

By now the stranger was growing impatient, and raises the sword to end his life. He scrambles for the name, fear suddenly gripping him. He can't die now, not when he's so close to going home. 

"Kattegat! That was it was. I was born in Kattegat, in a house by the water. I remember..only a small amount of things. It had been a long time." He opens his eyes to see the stranger has paused, his sword hanging limp in his fingers.

By now others have began to trickle into the treasury, staring at the display. There is a tall man with a shock of brown hair, another with tufts of wild hair to match his eyes. He blinks at them slowly before turning back to the blonde man in front of him. 

The stranger has a calculated look on his face, his eyes narrowed in consideration. "I want you to prove it" he says finally, dropping the sword from his throat. 

Athelstan sags in relief, bringing his fingers up to wipe away the blood beginning to run down his neck. He glances around the room once more, spotting that sometime during his confrontation with the Viking the priest behind the alter had been captured. 

"What do you want me to do?" He asks, fiddling with his shabby clothes. The man with the wild eyes giggles and moves forward to whisper something into the blonde mans ear. Ragnar, he was sure he heard someone call him. 

Said man looks between him and the sniffling priest, a cruel smile working its way onto his face. He somehow knows what's going to be asked of him before its already been said.

"I want you to kill the priest. If you can do so, they I will believe you are not one of them. If you can't, then I will know you were lying to me and I will let Floki deal with you" Ragnar had said steadily, his voice never changing. The wild man- Floki -giggles again and someone from the back mutters "poor bastard." 

Athelstan sighs quietly but doesn't refuse, sticking out his hand for a sword. It's not that he has any problem with killing the priest, he'd happily end the quivering mans life, it's just that he hadn't ended anyone's life before now. The instinctive feeling of wrong begins to crawl up him and he quickly pushes it away, snarling slightly. No, he was a Viking and he would do this. 

The wild man gleefully thrusts an axe into his waiting fingers and he closes them around the hilt, swinging the weapon once to test the weight. It feel good on his hands, almost natural, and he can't help but smile a little at the thought.

By now the priest has caught up with what is happening and is screaming in his terrible language, a mantra of pleas that fall of deaf ears. "Please, don't do this. Don't kill me. Alfred don't kill me."

They called him Alfred, despite him telling them that wasn't his name over and over again. They took everything away from him, and didn't even allow him to keep his own birth name. Years upon years of resentment and anger caught up with him in a moment and before he knew it he was bringing the axe down into the priests skinny chest.

Blood sprayed everywhere and bone cracked and still he swung the axe, bringing it over his head and down again into the priests body. Again and again he went until the ringing in his ears had stopped and the haze in his vision cleared. The room around him was deathly silent, with only with own frantic breathing and the gleeful sounds of a mad mans laugh filling the room. He dropped the axe to the floor, stepping away from the unrecognisable body and spitting at its side, his lips curled up into a snarl.

"Believe me now" he mutters breathlessly to Ragnar, watching as the mans gaze racks up and down his blood covered body. 

"Yes" is all the man responds, looking towards the dead priests butchered body for a moment before turning back to the tall one with the dark hair. "Rollo, collect what you can here. Make sure you take everything of value. Floki, Torstein, Leif, Arne, you help him. Burn the place when you're finished."

The men immediately turn back to their work and Athelstan finds he's being led away from the room, a heavy arm resting around his shoulder. "So tell me, how long have you been here?"

Athelstan turns his head towards him and frowns in consideration. "Too long for me to count. I can't remember" he responds truthfully, wiping some of the quickly drying blood out of his eyes.

"I'm sure you're desperate to get home, are you not?" Is the next question asked.

Athelstan eyes turn glassy as he imagines seeing Kattegat rise over the horizon. As he steps off the boat and into his own village. As he's reintroduced with his people and his gods.

"More than anything" he whispers feverishly, turning back to the taller man with a smile on his lips.

Ragnar seems to like this answers as he reaches out to ruffle his hair, a smile tugging at his lips aswell. "Then we will take you home, and you can become one of us once more. I'm sure everyone will welcome you warmly." He had said softly, nodding his head towards the boat bobbing in the water. "Oh, and tell me one last thing, little warrior. What is your name?" 

"Athelstan. My name is Athelstan" he answers immediately, and for the first time in many years he feels whole again.


End file.
